


looking for a savior in these dirty streets

by cherryvanilla



Category: Deadpool (Comics), Spider-Man (Comicverse), Spider-Man/Deadpool - Joe Kelly (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crossdressing, Identity Porn, Lap Sex, Lapdance, M/M, Marijuana, Porn with Feelings, Texting, Texts From Last Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2016-09-26
Packaged: 2018-08-17 12:37:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8144317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryvanilla/pseuds/cherryvanilla
Summary: what's your opinion on eating ass? just looking for a yes or no
That's the text Peter gets when he's in a meeting with Anna Maria, trying his hardest to get back to running a company a few months after an unexpected trip to the underworld.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [xombiebean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xombiebean/gifts).



> Follows the current Spider-man/Deadpool comic run through issue #8 and then goes AU in a very hand-wavey fashion, set a few months after the wrapping up of the events in the current arc. It will clearly get jossed by the next comic and those thereafter. 
> 
> This was inspired by [this](https://twitter.com/TFLN/status/776556465612087296) TFLN post and the twitter prompt of ‘getting high + slow lazy lap sex’. I hope you like this, seashine! :D <3
> 
> Title by Tori Amos, because Wade so would, so it's not just me being me, okay.
> 
> Thanks to Amanda for beta!

_what's your opinion on eating ass? just looking for a yes or no_

That's the text Peter gets when he's in a meeting with Anna Maria, trying his hardest to get back to running a company a few months after an unexpected trip to the underworld.

He nearly chokes on his tongue. 

_I'm not dignifying that with an answer_ is what he replies with, and for the millionth time regrets giving Wade his number. And only part of that is because of the unexpected trip to the underworld thing. He’s over that. Mostly. 

_ah ah omission equals an affirmative webs! everyone knows that. Huzzah!_

Peter huffs incredulously and Anna Maria gives him a look. 

He pulls his phone under the table and texts back blindly, like he's back in school and hiding shit from the teacher. 

_you're impossible and I'm busy_

He congratulates himself on not looking at his phone again until the meeting’s over. 

_oooh busy how? Is it a team up we’re teaming up right? You don't hate me anymore_

Peter has no idea if that last part was meant to be a question or not, but he answers it in his head anyway. The truth is no, he doesn't hate Wade. The truth is he never did, even after Wade killed him once, even when he killed him twice. Sure, Wade had thought that Peter’s anger had been stemming from his actions towards Peter’s “boss”, that he’d felt played, and Peter was not about to break him of that allusion. 

Peter’s had time to work through the truth, though, and he was a little surprised to find that, beyond his anger, he was more hurt than anything at the thought that Wade hadn't been genuine with him. 

And that what he’d been feeling when he confronted Wade a few months ago had been so far from hate. He _wanted_ to hate Wade, so badly. It just wasn't in the damn cards.

The dust had finally settled, the mystery solved. Peter no longer felt like a part of him was missing, as was the intention of Patient Zero and the powers that be, and Wade -- well, Wade no longer looked like -- well, kind of like Peter, which had also been the intention. The two of them becoming intertwined, part of one another, and not necessarily in a good way. 

Wade hadn’t shown Peter when his face went back to -- well, not normal, but normal for what Wade was used to, anyway. Peter still doesn’t know what he looks like in that regard. He kind of wants to. 

_I'll swing by tonight_ Peter texts back as he's heading to his office, ignoring Wade’s prior line of questioning. 

_swing! Ha! I'll wear something pretty 4 u baby boy_

When he’s finally alone and behind closed doors, Peter groans and puts his head on his desk. It’s going to be a very long afternoon. He tries very hard not to think about Wade’s initial text to him today, can’t help but wonder if Wade preferred performing or receiving rimming. 

It never occurs to him Wade just might not be into it. Wade was into everything, which he greatly enjoyed sharing with Peter any chance he could get. 

(Peter’s life was very hard, no pun intended).

(Ah, who was he kidding, pun always intended).  
___________________________

Wade wasn't kidding about wearing something pretty. Why would he be? Peter shows up through Wade’s balcony window to find him decked out in a black dress. It shouldn't be hot. It really fucking shouldn't be --

It is. It's ridiculously hot, and Wade’s not even wearing his suit under it. Peter’s heart lurches a little when he realizes how comfortable Wade is around him. Ever since they stripped down to their boxers and danced on stage together, something had changed. 

“How’s Ellie?” Peter asks, trying not to stare at Wade’s thick thighs. The dress is short, Jesus. His kid is a safe topic. Wholesome.

“She’s great,” Wade says and even through the mask Peter can tell he's caught off guard. “Still talking about you. Me thinks a matchmaker I have.”

Peter’s own mask often comes in handy sometimes, like now when his cheeks are suddenly burning. 

“And how’s Shiklah?” Peter asks pointedly, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Wade laughs loudly. “As jealous of you as ever,” Wade says, so casually, so offhand, that Peter is still staring after him when the doorbell rings and Wade rushes to answer it, an exclamation of, “El Pizza!” on his lips. 

Peter has a feeling it’s going to be as long of a night as it was an afternoon. 

If he were smarter he’d climb back out the window and swing away. 

He stays. If the delivery person found it weird that a huge guy in a dress and a mask answered the door, Peter hears nothing of it. He figured people could probably write books on the shit they witnessed at Wade’s apartment. 

Wade saunters back in (Peter isn't looking at his hips, he isn't) with two pizza boxes in hand. 

“Anyway, we’re actually on a break right now,” Wade continues, like they were never interrupted. “It's all very Ross and Rachel, except how it's not. I just always wanted to say that.”

“Of course you did, why am I not surprised,” Peter says, even as he's floundering, brain repeating _on a break on a break_. That’s… new. 

“I'd be worried if you thought I'd pass up the chance to make a 90s pop culture reference, Webs. We’d have to reevaluate this entire relationship.”

Wade sits down and Peter joins him, sitting on the other end of the couch and feeling incredibly stiff in his costume. Wade’s got his legs parted slightly. It's terribly distracting. 

“What relationship,” Peter mutters, his heart not in it. 

“Aww, you wound me, Webs. Have a heart! How's your boss -- who is totally not evil --doing? Still hating my guts? Not that I care, but you care and that makes me care, etc. etc. recap of a few months ago. He does have a great butt, though. Not as good as yours, baby, but--”

“Oh my god, Wade!”

“What?” Wade says, voice and expression through his mask conveying total innocence. 

“Just…” Peter says, shaking his head. “Can you just stop talking for a second?”

Wade’s mouth stretches into a grin and he slides closer exaggeratedly. “Why, Spidey, what would you suggest we be doing instead?”

Peter mentally counts to five. “Eating?”

Wade’s pauses for a beat before saying, “And just to clarify, you mean the pizza and not ass, yes?”

“Oh my god!” Peter exclaims again, and flings a Spider-Man couch cushion at Wade, blinking at it as he does so. 

“Okay, alright, pizza it is!” 

Wade hesitates when he rolls his mask up. He always has (when he’s sporting the scars, anyway) and it always makes Peter feel a certain way. The fact that Wade can be so relaxed around him with his body now, but this part of him he still guards is -- 

Well, it's something. Peter always hesitates with his mask as well, but for him it's a “I'm worried you might figure out I'm the guy you, up until recently, considered the Big Bad to your Buffy” kind of thing. 

They eat in a silence that feels kind of awkward, until they start talking about the fall out of their only very recently solved mystery and then it just feels _hella_ awkward because Peter’s starting to feel pretty guilty over his own omissions to Wade. 

When they've devoured the pizza, Wade stretches his arms over his head and pulls out a bowl from seemingly nowhere. “You wanna?”he asks, holding it up.

Peter shouldn't, he really shouldn't, but Wade hasn't rolled his mask down yet and his lips are chapped and Peter suddenly wants to feel as uninhibited as he did that night in the club. Wants to rid himself of the guilt of everything he hasn’t told Wade and the mixed up way he felt when Wade said the words _on a break_ and the stupid fondness in his chest when Wade was talking about Ellie acing her math quiz. 

“Yeah, okay,” Peter says, trying to sound cool and collected and not like he’s spinning out of control from just being around this guy. 

“Nice,” Wade says, sounding genuinely happy and flashing Peter his teeth in a smile.

Wade’s got some movie playing in the background now that Peter doesn't recognize. It doesn't look like something he’d watch, anyway. 

“Is that Ryan Reynolds?” Peter asks after he takes his first hit. 

“The guy is timeless,” Wade says, voice smoke laden and rough. 

Peter snorts and steals the bowl from him. They pass it back and forth, Peter absolutely not focusing on the fact that his mouth keeps touching where Wade’s just was. Not at all. 

“This doesn't really seem like your thing, Webs,” Wade says after a bit. 

“Rom-coms?” 

“Weed.”

Peter laughs and it comes out more like a giggle. Dear god. 

“I mean, I don't make a habit out of it or anything.”

It's Wade’s turn to laugh. “Nah, you've got a reputation to uphold.”

“Exactly,” Peter says firmly. “But uh, once and awhile I like to -- I dunno. Unwind.”

“Mm,” Wade hums, sounding very unwound himself. Peter risks a glance out of the corner of his eye, which is ridiculous since he's got the mask on anyway, and sees that Wade has slouched down a bit more on the couch, his dress riding up the expanse of his thigh just ever so slightly. 

“Why did you ask me that today?” Peter’s brain asks before his mouth can stop it. He's feeling hazy and loose and it didn't feel like the most dangerous thing he could bring up right now. Until he said it. 

“Hmm?” Wade asks, his head resting against the back of the couch and lolling toward him. “Oh! I was taking a poll.”

“A poll,” Peter repeats, voice flat. 

“Yeah, you know. Outsourcing. Was watching some porn and I was curious.”

“So you decided to text multiple people about rimming on a Tuesday afternoon.”

“What does it being a Tuesday have anything to do with it? Is the question more acceptable on a Friday?” Wade asks, sounding genuinely curious, and Peter cracks up. 

They look at one another, grinning. “Shut up,” Peter says, his cheeks on fire. “Did you get any answers?”

“Oh yeah, most people aren't as uptight as you baby boy. Perhaps literally, given the topic at hand. The Mercs for the Money were rather candid. Preston eventually gave in. Some other ‘business associates’ were amused.”

“Huh,” Peter replies. 

He still can't bring himself to answer, though.

“The porn was pretty boring, I had time on my hands,” Wade continues, and now Peter’s just picturing him jerking off with one hand while texting with the other.

“Right.” Peter swallows hard.

“We could watch it if you want,” Wade suggests, so lasciviously that Peter can _hear_ the eyebrow waggle. “Get your own informed opinion on its quality.” 

Peter’s laughter feels like it's punched out of him, nerves swirling in his chest. 

“Mm, I think I'm good, man.”

“Right, I forgot, you're a gentlemen,” Wade says, and Peter can hear shuffling next to him. “Didn't even compliment me on my dress though, Webs, what kind of a gentlemen are you _really_? You know it's this type of shit that got you in trouble with the Valkyrie.”

Peter frowns and holds up his hand. “Hey, now, that was mostly all you. I think we can agree on that.”

“Sure, Spider-Swayze, whatever you say. I'm just sorry no lap dances were given out that night.”

Peter eyes him, smirk on his lips. “You would've?”

“For the sake of gender equality? Fuckin’ A. Would've given you one, too, but that's a given.”

“Oh,” Peter says around a gulp. He blames his next words on the pot still present in his system and the way he feels like he could crawl into this couch and never come out, his fingers scratching at the fabric. “So, you're no longer denying I wasn’t -- on your list then, huh?”

Wade scoffs. “Please, Webs, that's the worst kept secret in any Marvel universe.”

“In any what?”

“Nothing.” Wade’s staring at him, Peter can feel it and he looks back, suddenly wanting to see Wade’s eyes. “Point being: not even remotely a secret here. My bromantic feelings for you are more not exactly no homo. Do with that what you will.”

Peter wonders if Wade would be saying this if he weren't high. Wade’s a pretty uninhibited guy but Peter isn't so sure, despite how much he knows every word that Wade is saying is genuine. Knows it in his bones. But then he thinks back to Wade’s heartfelt apology to him a few months ago, to the vulnerability he showed there. 

_Do with that what you will_ , said Wade. And wasn't that the million dollar question, though. 

“I do,” Peter says, taking a breath.

“You do what,” Wade asks, and fuck when did he get so close that his voice is right in Peter’s ear?

“Like your dress,” Peter says, suppressing a shiver. 

“Yeah, Webs?” Wade breathes in his ear, his tongue flicking out to brush against his lobe. 

“Wade, c’mon…” Peter says and it comes out like a plea. _Don't make me ask_.

“Shit, you serious?” Wade's voice is as determined as Peter's ever heard it and even as he asks the question he's throwing a leg over Peter’s thighs and climbing into his lap. 

“Oh, god,” Peter whispers, his fingers clenching in fists before he brings them up around Wade’s back, smoothing down the softness of the dress and feeling the uneven plains of Wade’s skin beneath. 

He can't believe he's doing this, that they're -- 

“Yeah,” Wade groans, rough lips on Peter’s jaw, his chin. “Webs. You feel so good.” 

Wade’s voice is reverent and his hands are hot and heavy, stroking up and down Peter’s chest, lingering over his nipples that are rock hard beneath the suit and probably have been for a while now. 

“This damn dress,” Peter moans, dragging his hands down Wade's back and raking up the fabric so it's bunched up around Wade’s thighs. He pulls back to look and groans aloud at the sight. “Driving me crazy.”

“Good, don't wanna be the only insane one here,” Wade murmurs and then leans in and kisses Peter, kisses him long and deep and slow and Peter could die here and not care. Everything else he's supposed to care about: the company, not letting himself get too close to Wade, the recent threat against him, it all fades away. 

_Deadpool is not a guy you can save_ , Anna Maria had said. 

_But what if I'm the one that needs saving_ , Peter thinks now as he pulls Wade closer and moans against his lips, bring their erections into contact and then moaning at _that_.

Wade's gloved hands pull down the rest of Peter’s mask so his neck is exposed before licking a path down it. Peter runs his hands over Wade’s bare shoulders, feeling scars, both stabbed and sore. Wade’s skin jumps under the touch and Peter keeps his strokes light, thrusting his hips upward. 

Wade rocks in his lap, circling his hips slowly, so slowly, like he's giving Peter that lap dance he'd apparently thought about. Peter lets him do it, lets Wade ride against his dick and his thigh slowly, oh so slow while he traces over Wade’s wide shoulders and the thick muscles of his arms. 

Wade’s sucking a mark into the base of Peter's neck and Peter's grateful he wears high collars at work because Anna Maria would have a field day with this. 

“Wade,” Peter gasps, pulling him up with one hand so they can kiss again, licking between Wade’s chapped lips until there's nothing but silky, wet heat. He brings his hands back down, smoothing up and down Wade’s bare thighs. Wade moans into the touch and presses harder into Peter. His dress is all the way up now and all Peter can feel rubbing against his suit is -- 

“Oh, God, are those lace panties?” Peter asks, breathless, reaching down to touch before Wade can answer because the guy is writhing in his lap like he needed this days ago and if that's not consent, Peter doesn't know what is. 

“Yeah,” Wade gasps, even as Peter fingers them. “You never seemed this into all this before, you know. The French maid outfit didn't make this impression.” 

Peter laughs. “It's called self-preservation.” He traces his index finger along the crease of Wade’s thigh, where the edge of the lace meets skin. 

“It's called not getting laid.” 

“I'll remember that in the future,” Peter says, nipping at the underside of Wade’s jaw. “But how about now, with the laying.”

“Twist my arm why don't you,” Wade mutters before kissing him again, achingly slow like before. 

No matter what Peter does, Wade won't pick up the pace. Forget thinking he could die happy here, Peter's just going to die here period, probably from blue balls. 

He didn't expect it to be like this with Wade, the few times he did allow himself the fantasy. He expected a quick, rough fuck in an alley or over a couch or face down on a bed with their suits still on. 

He never expected Wade to kiss him till his lips were raw and leave a string of hickies on his neck and grind up against his dick until his suit had a wet spot from how much his dick was leaking. 

And even though he never expected it, he can't say he minds, despite the desperate need to come. Wade has been finding a ton of ways to surprise him lately and this is just something to add onto the list.

He’s cupping Wade’s ass, first through the pants and then beneath them, when Wade gasps into his neck and says, “Do you like a guy riding your dick? Just looking for a yes or no.” 

Peter laughs and moans at them same time. “Yes. God, yes,” he says, letting his finger slide between Wade’s cheeks and over his hole.

“Good answer, you win this fine ass to fuck.”

Peter laughs again, shaking with it. 

Wade pulls back and leans over between the cushions, pulling out a tube of lube triumphantly. 

“In the couch, really?” Peter asks, aiming for disapproving and probably failing by a mile. 

“I told you, I watch porn. A lot of porn, Webs.”

Peter bites his lip, chewing on it, the images of Wade jerking off assaulting him again. “Give me the porn star treatment then,” Peter says, leaning back and spreading his arms wide over the back of the couch. 

Wade looks delighted and deftly takes out Peter’s cock, even though the seams of the suit are kind of tricky. Maybe Wade's suit was modeled after his after all.

Wade stares at it his dick and Peter's cheeks burn as he watches Wade lick his lips. Then he's slicking up Peter’s cock. 

“So full disclosure: a) I can't get you sick and vice versa but if you want a rubber I'll get one and 2) I've basically been fingering myself all afternoon so I'm good to go.”

Peter has no idea how he doesn’t come right there and then. “Uh,” he says around his swallowed tongue. “Right, okay, all of that is … fine.”

Wade grins down at him and then he's holding Peter's cock by the base and sliding down onto him, tight and hot and perfect. 

“Oh my god,” Peter gasps, his hands heavy and trembling on Wade’s hips. 

Wade lets out a wordless groan as he bottoms out. He kisses Peter again, a filthy, wet kiss with all tongue and barely any lips. When he starts to move Peter sees stars behind his eyes. 

It goes on forever. It's maddening and hot and Peter’s sweating in his suit and behind his eyes. 

“Wish I could see you,” Wade whispers at one point. It's a quiet admission, not showy or boisterous, and fuck, Peter wants to tell him; wants to rip off the mask, especially since Wade doesn't hate Peter Parker anymore. No, Wade just thinks he doesn't know him at all, when he does.

He knows Peter so well it’s a little scary. 

“Wade,” Peter says, and thrusts up into him, making Wade moan and grind down harder. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Wade replies, answering some unspoken statement of Peter’s. He takes Peter's hand in his and starts jerking himself off, their gloved fingers working in time over his dick, matching the circle of Wade's hips. 

Peter comes with his dick buried deep in Wade's ass, his tongue in Wade's mouth, and Wade's cock in his hand. Peter never really made it to heaven, just some weird sort of purgatory, but if he had he's pretty sure this moment would be what it looked like. 

Then he thinks he really needs to get laid more often if this was the kind of shit he was waxing rhapsodic as he came. 

Wade comes a minute later, sucking hard on Peter's tongue and still riding his cock, making Peter shake and groan. 

When he’s finally spent, he slumps against Peter, heavy and boneless. There's probably a come stain on the dress and the thought makes Peter shiver, his dick attempting a valiant twitch, still buried inside Wade.

“Now how's that for a porno lap dance performance,” Wade quips, a moment or an eternity later. He sounds completely fucked out, though, and his thighs are shaking, so Peter can't feel embarrassed about his own heavy breathing. 

“A+ would book again,” Peter says. dragging his lips over Wade’s neck, his shoulder. 

Wade laughs, then hums in his ear. “So I think you should tell me now. I guarantee I'll make it worth your while, Webs.”

Peter shivers. His dick is soft now and he lifts Wade up just so it slips out, settling back on top of Peter, arms around his neck. He doesn't have to ask what he means.

“Yes. Um, receiving especially. But both. I realize that was more than a yes or --”

Wade cuts him off with a fierce, hard kiss that leaves breathless when he pulls back. 

Then Wade's climbing off Peter and pulling him in the direction of the bedroom. “In here, now, and I'm probably not letting you out of this bed for at least a day. I don't care if it's a goddamn Tuesday, I've been wanting at this ass forever, baby boy.”

Peter blushes and let's himself be pushed down onto the bed, let's Wade strip off the dress and pull the rest of Peter's suit off so all that's remaining is the top half of their masks.

“I can -- oh god,” Peter gasps into the sheets as Wade turns him easily and spreads his cheeks, licking a slow line up between them. “I can move some things around tomorrow.”

“I figured you could,” Wade says, grinning against Peter’s skin. “After all, it's good to be the boss.”

Peter’s gasp is loud and his eyes are wide as Wade's tongue pushes inside of him. 

_Well, shit._

[end]


End file.
